We Get By (With A Little Help)
by bitchalicious77
Summary: Originally posted as Time Travel, Blown Up Microwaves, Twin Sisters, Frequent Quarrels, Supernatural Abilities, and the Beatles.
1. Coralie : Chapter One

HEY ALL OF YOU AMAZING FANS OF THIS STORY! We're so sorry that it has been SOOOOOOOOOOOOO long since we have posted any new content. Real life got in the way, we had many ups and downs, health issues, deaths, graduation, and worst of all, writers block. But now we are finally past that and we present to you a new and revamped version of this story! We hope you all enjoy the show!

~bitchalicious77 & ~georgerocksthehouse

Chapter One: In which we travel back in time.

December 8th 2015

Do you know that feeling when you wake up in the morning and you just know that something big is going to happen, but you don't know whether it's going to be good or bad? That was the only thing coursing through my body when I awoke in a cocoon of blankets in my giant pit bed this morning. I reached over to one of the shelves built into the walls surrounding my humongous cushion, and managed to grab my journal from amongst the junk that constantly surrounded me.

Opening the worn book and flipping through the countless words I finally stumbled upon a blank page. I placed the book down on the bed I quickly found my pen and uncapped it. Laying back down, on my stomach this time, I started to write mindlessly. A morning routine of mine.

I had another dream about him. I felt closer to the man this time. It's hard to explain, but I have have a feeling I'm going to meet him today. But that won't be easy since I'm staying in

You see, today is December 8th. Which means my twin sister and I had plans to stay in, watch all The Beatles movies, listen to all the songs John Winston Ono Lennon was primarily featured on, eat junk food, and cry over the loss of a personal hero. Colleen and I are completely consumed with love for the Beatles. While Colleen's favourite happens to be good old George Harrison, my love was undeniably completely for Johnny boy himself. In fact, if I happened to be alive then, I so would have snuck in his window as a awestruck teenager, and tried so hard to get him to fall for me.

Sadly, I was born in 1995 and not 1940. By the time I managed to worm my way into a body the amazing man I feel such a connection to had already been gone for 15 years. Funny enough for the longest time after she got to know me, Colleen was convinced that I was his reincarnation. Before you even form the question in your mind we have barely known eachother for 5 years. we met on our 16th birthday, so we had much to catch up on

Truth be told, as annoying as she can be at times, Colleen is my best friend. I have gone through thick and thin with her, and wouldn't want anybody else by my side as we escape death.

My phone buzzed next to me, speak of the devil . Coralie? The text from my sister read. I swear, sometimes I think my sister can read minds.

Yeah?

Did you do something?

No! What the hell do you think I did? I typed swiftly in reply to her accusation.

For some reason I sense that you did something big and we're going to be feeling the repercussions for it today. I was glad to know I wasn't the only one who felt the kink in the forces. However, not so glad that she thought it was my fault. Normally when I was accused by Colleen, she was right to do so. This time, I had done absolutely nothing.

I haven't even gotten out of bed yet. I defended my innocence to her, only to receive nothing in return. I groaned and threw my phone down on the mattress before returning to my blurb about the mystery man.

he sang to me. I don't know what it was, but it was soft and sweet, the words were full of adoration. I couldn't decipher them, his voice was muffled.. and his face was blurred, as always..but I know that he is real. I feel such a connection to him.. I need to know him.

Coralie Guilbault

I signed my name at the bottom of the entry, closed my book, and recapped my pen. I suppose I need to get out of bed at some point today, now is as good a time as any. I placed my hands on the floor, and pulled myself out of the shallow divot I claimed as a sleeping area. Standing up on the white carpet I stretched my arms above my head and yawned one last time before heading over to my closet. Pushing a button, the wall that was once before me disappeared entirely and I was met with my assortment of tops.

Today was cold, and I was going to be lounging around the house. This event called for the casual comfiness of a sweater. I sauntered over to the left side of my walk-in closet and my eyes scanned the hangers. Red seems too much like blood, not a good idea for today. Orange? No, orange is a happy colour, today is not a happy day. I scan over yellow and green in the same fashion. My eyes fall upon the arrangement of blue sweaters, blue seems to be the best choice; but do I want dark blue or light blue? I think to myself as I run my fingers over the fabric, light blue always pairs better. Plus, I was thinking of my accented colour being pastel pink today, and baby blue goes better with pastel pink than royal blue. I decide on an ombre blue to white sweater and walk out of the closet over to my pants dresser.

I open the third drawer down, my leggings drawer. I sift through the two piles of black leggings before deciding on a pair with white wintery designs on them. Satisfied with my choices, I close the drawer and stand up before stripping and putting the clothes on. Moving over towards my vanity I take a seat on the pink stool before it and open the right-side drawer. I grab my circular necklace with a quote by John Lennon on it. "Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted." I clasp it around my neck and it settles nicely next to my prism pendant. I reach back into the drawer and grab my pastel pink watch before fitting it around my wrist.

Looking into the mirror, I grab my brush and quickly run it through my blonde hair with a blue streak, smoothing it down before pulling it into a half up-do and putting a pastel pink bow in it. Satisfied with my hair, I put in a pair of dangling silver snowflake earrings and move onto my makeup, I create a silver-white smokey eye, and add some pastel pink matte lipstick. I look at myself in the mirror again, damn I'm sexy. I wink and blow my reflection a kiss before putting away my makeup. I paint my nails the same pastel pink before standing up. I blow on my nails once to dry them. One good thing about having powers to control water, it's easy to stay dry.

I grab the pair of black boots with fur on the inside and multiple buckles on the outside and put them on, a woman always needs to wear a full outfit, that's my motto. Last but not least, I grab my white purse from the rack, which has one of every colour, and slide my wallet, earbuds, lipstick, phone charger, my journal and pen, a vial of perfume which I spritz myself with before placing it inside, and finally, my phone.

I decided it was time to venture and see what Colleen was up to, I left my room and closed the door behind me. I walked down the small hallway into the main area, turning to my right I headed towards my sisters room. She was more down to earth than I was; I suppose that in turn was a good thing, considering I was always in the clouds. I walked into her room, if you could call it that, it seemed to be more of a garden or greenhouse library. Her entire floor was grass. Honest to gods, true, needs to be watered and have sunlight grass. One of her walls was just a shelf full to the brink with worn books, and in the center of all this was her bed. Like me, she too had a pit bed, but it was covered in outrageous colours. What with the orange, purple, and red thrown all over the "design". This girl was sleeping every night in a cocoon of fashion disaster. And that's just her blankets, let's not even start on what she wears. "Are you going to get out of bed anytime soon?" I questioned.

I was only granted with a grunt as she turned away and rolled the knob on her speaker, raising the volume of the music. I completely understood her reaction, after all, one of our idols had been murdered today 31 years ago. Colleen always seemed to show her emotions on her sleeve, while I was the opposite. I sighed and left the room heading towards our kitchen.

The room was dark when I exited the hallway, I moved towards the large window that separated the outside world from the beauty of our home. Modern furnishings of black, steel, and white, surrounded me. The kitchen wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either, there was enough room for a fridge, oven, toaster oven, coffee maker, blender, dishwasher, a sink, and the out of place microwave. I had managed to blow up 34 microwaves so far this year, Colleen protested my destruction by purchasing increasingly ugly microwaves.

Maneuvering around the kitchen I opened the cupboard which held my dishes and grabbed a pastel pink mug and a small plate of the same colour. I poured some fresh coffee that Avril made, as she does every morning, and poured a copious amount of creamer and sugar stirring it all together with a silver spoon. I then moved towards the fridge and got out some port wine cheese and ritz crackers and put a decent amount onto the plate before putting everything away and washing my spoon.

I made my way into the living room and grabbed the remote before sitting in the corner of our large white sofa, and I turned the TV and surfed through the channels until a promising talk show appeared. They were talking about the 35th anniversary of John Lennon's death, mostly stuff about his music and how he was an inspiration to many.

"And, ladies, about John Lennon's killer... Mark Da-" before I could hear the rest, Colleen came in and turned off the TV.

"What the hell Colleen?" I angrily accused her, "I was watching that. You don't own this house you can't just do whatever you want.".

"Names have power. I won't let you give him even more of it," She stated anxiously.

"You and your superstitious mumbo jumbo Colleen. Do you want to watch 'A Hard Day's Night' with me?"

She responded with a simple "sure" as she sat in her chair, and I went about with the DVR to start up the movie, and I wrapped myself in the white blanket that was lain over the back of the couch before pressing play.

After 4 ½ hours and 3 different movies, my stomach decided it was time to eat and informed me by letting out a vicious growl. "I'm going to make myself some soup, do you want anything?" I asked Colleen as I was emerging from my cocoon of blankets and pillows to head towards the kitchen.

"No," she responded, "just please, for the love of God, don't touch my microwave." I scoffed, of course I was gonna use the microwave, I wasn't about to wait an extra 5 minutes to heat up the stove.

"Yeah, I won't" I blatantly lied to her. I made my way into the kitchen and snatched a can of soup from the cupboard and a spoon. I opened up the can and stirred it and glanced at the clock. 7:33, and of course Avril was still with her boy toy. "I can't believe that Avril is still out with that guy, she's been gone all day, today of all days!" I angrily put the soup into the microwave and set the timer for 2 minutes and closed the door. "That's just ridiculous."

I hear Colleen rush into the kitchen screeching, "MY MICROWAVE" she wailed as she took ahold of my sweatshirt dragging me as far away from number 35 as it detonated before my eyes and clouds of dark grey and deep purple erupted from the microwave that had originally contained my dinner. Then suddenly everything went dark as I collided with the cold tiled ground.

...why am I laying on concrete? The floor of the kitchen is black and white tile, and I would know, i fought very hard to get it to match the rest of the house. I opened my eyes but was able to see nothing but a blur of colour and I heard only the far off roar of a crowd. Confused I sat up, only to be bombarded by jolts of pain running through my body. Soon my eyes focused and I realized that somehow Colleen and I had ended up in an alleyway. There were none around our flat and it was a bit colder than it was before. I stood up and instantly regretted my decision as I was so dizzy that I almost fell back down, but I gathered enough control to stay standing and nudged my sister with my foot. "Colleen, wake up!" I hissed at her, still not sure where we were or if we were possibly in danger.

She mumbled something after she opened her eyes and I decided to take the opportunity to become more aware of my surroundings while Colleen was gathering herself. It was quite dark, and the moon was shining high in the sky, so that meant that we had been out for a while. There were dumpsters in front of us and a main road perpendicular to the alleyway, the crowd I had originally heard seemed to be coming closer to us, but there was nothing important happening anywhere near our flat, if so, I would have been advised to attend. I only grew more confused. My sister had finally gotten on her feet so I turned to her and asked, "Where are we?"

"Liverpool" she said flatly.

"That can't be, I've never been here and I've been everywhere there is to be in Liverpool." I retorted although I knew she wasn't lying, I could feel the waves crashing to the shore in the small bay that Liverpool was so famous for. "Something isn't right here." I said to her.

"Tell me about it. It's too cold- the temperature was supposed to go up overnight- and we're nowhere familiar, but we're in Liverpool. No two ways about it." She responded to me seeming exasperated as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well Colleen.." I started but before I could retort with something snarky, all of a sudden four men darted down the alleyway towards us.

"Quick hide!" One of them shouted to us, and I recognized the voice but couldn't initially place it. Before I knew it a hand grasped my arm and pulled me behind the dumpsters, to be honest, I wasn't really resisting. I squatted behind the dumpsters, Colleen and the guys leaned against the wall, thankfully she had the courtesy to use her powers for the better and wafted the smell of rotting food away from our huddle. What sounded like a herd of screaming banshees, who were actually a herd of females, ran past the mouth of the alleyway and continued to the opposite road disappearing as soon as they appeared.

I looked towards my sister "What the fuck?" I spoke to her through our mind link just as she questioned "What the actual hell?" I looked over towards the men who had interrupted our sisterly bonding, one of them made eye contact with me and a sense of deja vu ran through me just as Colleen happened to "say" something along the lines of "!"

"Hello ladies, how's your evening been. I risked me life tonight." And that's when the realization set in. That was John FUCKING Lennon. My eyes darted towards Colleen.

"Wait." we both managed to let out at the same time. "What."

"Love", 'John Lennon' said to me, I still wasn't sure that this was reality. I ignored him and continued to try to grasp ahold of what was going on. "Love" he repeated, and yet again I ignored him, maybe this was just a dream of some sort. "Love!" he exclaimed a third time.

"What?" I barked at him.

He smirked and looked to my chest, gesturing with his hand, "your tits are lighting up". Shit, my phone! I pulled my iphone 6 plus and turned the screen on. I had received a text from Avril.

"Okay, wait, what the fuck! Colleen! I have bars in...in...help me out here"

"Let's go with 1965," She instantly responded

"I HAVE BARS IN 1965!" I roared excitedly.

"Well, who is it?" my sister questioned me. I opened the text from Avril and it read 'Omg Coralie, guess what just happened! MDC the asshole escaped!' She had written in all caps. Colleen moved from her original spot to stand in between me and the foursome presumably to make sure they couldn't catch a glimpse.

I turned to face her and said, "We have a problem.." just as I was going to say something else, I felt the familiar pain on the left side of my forehead that preluded to trouble, my hand found its way to my head as I pressed in trying to relieve the pressure. "First, I'm going to have a migraine Colleen, I need somewhere safe."

"Shit, that's just, shit, I have nowhere to go and you can't be here when this happens" Colleen started freaking out.

"No fucking shit Sherlock" I said to my sister as I started to drift away. "I can't hold out any longer." My vision started to fade as I heard Ringo ask Colleen if I was having a seizure. I heard a faint familiar crackle of laughter known to us as SMT and everything went dark for the second time today.


	2. Colleen : Chapter 1

Chapter One: MY MICROWAVE! and other assorted problems

December 8, 2015

I sighed and flopped disconsolately around in my pit bed, trying in vain to free my limbs from the sheets that had taken them prisoner. Eventually I managed to break free, with all the grace of a beached whale, and I reached for my phone to change the music. I'd listened to John Lennon's Imagine album about a million times so far, give or take a few, and though I didn't usually get teary eyed listening to Imagine or Jealous Guy, the day was proving too much to handle and my emotions were running out of control. Something about December 8th (and November 29th and April 17th) got to me like nothing else could.

A few taps on my phone brought me to a playlist of John Lennon's greatest hits. Unwilling to decide which song I wanted to hear first, I just hit shuffle. My music dutifully complied by playing the opening notes to Stand by Me, and I tuned it out, trying to distance myself from the feelings I just knew the song would evoke. As a result, I was forced to come face to face with the prickling, uneasy feeling about my sister that blew in like a breeze, only to disappear just as quickly. I'd been getting the feeling for at least a week, and initially dismissed it as anxiety over an upcoming calculus exam. But when the test was over and I discovered I passed with flying colors, only to get hit so strongly with the unsettled feeling I nearly forgot to breath- which is rather difficult to do, as I have an affinity with the element air- I realized it was something more.

It swept over me, and I tipped my head back, focusing on nothing more than just breathing through the feeling. My hands trembled and on reflex I grabbed at the crystalline purple heart pendant around my neck, hoping it would ground me against the assault. I never knew what strange abilities it would reveal; the necklace had been in my possession all my life and I still knew the powers it gave me had untapped depths that I was, quite frankly, afraid to touch. The thought of abusing the strange talents I had been gifted and going mad with power, like a young female Lord Voldemort, terrified me.

After some undefined amount of time, the uneasy feeling receded and I returned to the real world. Almost immediately, I unclenched my left hand from the pendant, as I could feel an imprint of a heart forming on my palm, and I rolled my shoulders, trying to dismiss the eerie sensation of being watched. My door was closed and the curtains were drawn, and the only other living thing in the room was the grass that grew across my floor like a living carpet. There was nothing there.

Still, I decided to stop beating around the bush and just ask my twin sister Coralie if she felt off as well. All week I had prevaricated and made excuses to myself to avoid talking to her about it, because if it was just me it likely wouldn't go over well with her. My instincts for the supernatural weren't quite as sharply honed as my sister's or our third flatmate Avril's and sometimes they acted up over nothing. I unerringly felt like a complete dumbass if I panicked without cause so I tended not to say anything, but this time I just couldn't ignore it.

I again reached for my phone.

Coralie? I texted her, wanting to ease into the conversation slowly. Today of all days my sister was liable to be extremely cranky, and I didn't want to attract her ire.

Within fifteen seconds she replied, Yeah?

Well that was singularly unhelpful to moving the conversation along. I gritted my teeth and decided to just say it. Did you do something?

The instant after I hit send I regretted the way I phrased the message, but there was nothing to be done about it. Learning how not to piss Coralie off was difficult, especially considering we only had four years to build the kind of twin connection that was supposed to develop naturally over a lifetime.

Due to a rather unfortunate twist of fate, I grew up from infancy in a group home in New York, while Coralie was adopted by the Guilbault family into a life of luxury and became a pop star at the age of twelve. Neither knew the other existed until we happened to meet in Central Park. From there, we sort of stumbled into finding out we were related.

I had not taken the revelation that Coralie Guilbault, princess of bubblegum pop, was my fraternal twin sister very well, but we managed. Having a family meant more to me than anything and Coralie was my best friend, but we had our miscommunications and sometimes just didn't get along very well.

It was a work in progress, and I would cling to that excuse until the end of time.

My phone buzzed and I groaned, but checked the message anyway. No! What the hell do you think I did?, she snapped, and I could perfectly picture the aggravation she would've displayed had we been talking face to face: pink painted lips pursed, brows furrowed, shiny nails tap-tap-tapping against her phone screen as she dared me, just dared me, to reply.

For some reason I sense that you did something big and we're going to be feeling the repercussions for it today., I confessed, trying to keep from rambling on about the sudden fits of anxiety that feeling had caused, then sent the message after deciding it was safe enough. My sister wasn't a big fan of discussing emotions, and I wanted to avoid making her any more uncomfortable than I already managed to do. While I had never had reason to learn anything much in the way of emotional control or repression, living in the spotlight for nearly half her life taught my sister the value of putting up a barrier between herself and her feelings and the rest of the world. However, she couldn't take that barrier down to let someone else in any more, and I didn't know why. Rumor had it she once could, though, and I was determined to discover what had changed between now and then.

I wasn't exactly optimistic about my chances though. I'd known her for four and a half years and I still hadn't made much headway.

My phone again vibrated and I checked the message, already knowing what I'd see. Despite growing up constantly surrounded by and interacting with people my own age and having the emotional maturity to recognize and handle my own feelings productively, I was still hit or miss and handling other people's emotions and keeping them from reacting poorly to me. With Coralie, I tended to miss more often than not, and this interaction was no exception. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet., she had replied, and rather defensively if I was any judge.

I groaned and my head fell back on the edge of my pit bed with a solid thunk. There went any shot of my sister taking me seriously. By now, even I was doubting my sanity.

There wasn't much I could text back to Coralie without instigating an even bigger fight, so I dropped the conversation and melted back down into the nest of blankets I had arranged in my pit bed, tangling myself in the softest layers I could find and shoving my face down into the pillow to sulk in frustration for a while.

What? I was a big enough person to admit it to myself- I was sulking like a child. And to be frank, I didn't really give a shit.

After some unknown amount of time spent tiptoeing the line between consciousness and sleep, spent fleeing desperately from a looming shadow in something more or less like a lucid nightmare, my sister threw my door open and sent it banging into the wall opposite. I started and tried to flail, but was much restricted by the blanket cocoon I'd woven myself into, and settled for a halfhearted flop instead. Without even looking I knew that one of Coralie's perfectly done eyebrows was raised practically into her hairline at the sight of my room.

It wasn't that I was a slob or even particularly messy. After spending my formative years in a group home, I was well versed in organization and in putting things the fuck back where they came from, so I rarely needed to do more than five minutes of cleaning at a time. Oh no. My sister was most definitely judging the vivid purples, reds, and oranges of my pit bed, and the fact that I was tangled up in that mess of color wearing pajama pants that were four completely dissimilar colors.

"Are you going to get out of bed any time soon?" she asked me archly, and yep, I could definitely hear the raised skeptical eyebrow.

I shrugged, not that it was visible through the tangle of blankets. "Ehhhhhhhhhhh," I answered, which in my books was a perfectly valid response to her question, and reached an arm out of my cocoon to turn the music down. I smashed the wrong button on my phone, accidentally cranking the volume up, and overcorrected by giving up and turning my music off before again struggling to emerge from the knots of my covers.

By the time I finally managed to break free, Coralie was gone and my door was still hanging wide open. With a thought, I used the air in the room to gently nudge the door shut and lock it closed, just in case my sister felt the urge to barge back into my space again. At the same time, I swung the closet door open to stare at the sum totality of my wardrobe, which I'd managed to cram into the closet, shoes, jewelry, and all. It was just after 2 pm, which meant I should probably get dressed.

I grabbed my favorite pair of jeans, a black camisole, and a reversible hoodie that was green on one side and had a huge portrait of John Lennon circa 1970 on the other, and changed quickly from my pajamas to those clothes. It took me until I had my hand on the doorknob to realize I should probably put some socks on or something, as the hardwood of the hallways and other spaces in the apartment weren't nearly so forgiving as my grass carpet was, and I doubled back to my closet. Quickly, I grabbed a pair of red and white striped fuzzy socks and yanked them onto my feet, and picked up my slippers to bring out with me in case Coralie made me trek down to the lobby of our apartment building to grab her a can of Coke or something from one of the vending machines down there. I wouldn't put it past her. As I passed my pit bed I unplugged my phone with the air and hovered it and my headphones into opposite pockets as I went. I didn't have a stellar phone- I had a Samsung Galaxy J7, which was a decent phone for its price, but not Coralie's iPhone 6S plus- but I kept it charged and on my person as often as I could. With the life my flatmates and I led it was a necessity.

No, we weren't criminals living in complete disregard for the law or anything of that ilk. Even inside my own head I had to make that perfectly clear, just in case some telepath happened to glance in at my thoughts. Avril, Coralie, and I... just happened to have an alternative definition of a normal life, and normal for us meant using supernatural powers over the elements and other things to fight terrifying shadowy creatures and unholy creations on a biweekly basis.

You know. As one does.

Assured that this time, I actually had everything I'd need, I unlocked my door and stepped out into the hallway of the apartment. The overhead light was off, leaving the narrow hallway painted with inky shadow, and only a tiny sliver of light shone from my sister's open bedroom door on the far end of the hall. Where my room was eclectic and mostly done in shades of brown, cream, and green, my sister's room was ultramodern and high contrast. She'd paid a professional interior designer to come in and decorate her room in black and white and chrome and clear, and paid a decent sum to have her gigantic closet installed with retracting doors and a rotating rack for her dresses and tops. I maintained that it hadn't been the wisest decision, as part of the reason she, Avril, and I had chosen to emigrate to Liverpool was to try and lie low, but it had happened nonetheless. It'd be easier to convince the sun not to rise in the morning than to talk my sister out of doing something she'd made her mind up on doing. We also had a storage closet at the end of the hall, and by we I mostly meant Coralie, because there was only so much stuff two regular 20 year olds making a transatlantic move could possibly have accumulated.

The other end of the hallway had Avril's room, which she had painstakingly done up in many violent shades of violet, the bathroom that she and I shared, and also led to the rest of our apartment. I headed that way now, closing my bedroom door behind me as I went. My feet carried me on autopilot down the black hardwood floors and into the living room/office mix. The office was in the back corner of the room next to a gigantic bay seat window, and mostly consisted of a rickety black Ikea computer desk and office chair, both beat to hell, with a few file folders full of papers and a very high quality laptop on the desk for good measure. The living room was in the front corner. My sister had insisted on a seventy inch flat screen TV and managed to procure one for our apartment, though I had no idea how she managed to fit it through the doors. In front of the TV sat a glass coffee table recommended to us by Coralie's interior designer, and around it rested a plush white leather couch that I refused to sit on (my sister had far too many hookups on that couch for my peace of mind), two cozy black armchairs, and an obnoxiously awesome red recliner that I insisted on buying and bringing home just to fuck with Coralie's black and white design vision.

Three wooden steps and an elegant banister separated the kitchen and dining room from the chaos of the rest of the apartment. The gas oven/stove combo was in the original stainless steel, excepting the fact that Coralie had painted the exterior with fireproof white paint (and bitched the whole time about the mess she was making on her designer clothes. She should've thought of that before she started painting.) She'd also done the fridge, dishwasher, sinks, and cabinets and given the whole lot black accents, to match with the black and white small appliances of course. Our dining table was a round affair done from what looked to be the same black hardwood as our flooring, and it came with four matching wooden chairs, and the front door and the door to Coralie's bathroom were nearly opposite each other.

And then there was the microwave.

The microwave was a point of contention in our messed up household. Coralie had blown up a grand total of 34 microwaves in the past year, and I had absolutely no idea how she managed it. Due to her propensity for accidents involving the appliance, she had been forbidden from touching it. Ever. Not even with a thirty nine and a half foot pole. Not in a box, not with a fox. Never. If there was such a thing as a microwave war, all the world's countries would be contacting me for psychological help with their veterans. That was my level of experience.

My sister was currently curled up in the very corner of the white leather sofa, nursing a cup of coffee in a pastel pink ceramic mug and very intently watching some kind of trashy daytime talk show. A plate the same sugary shade of pink as the mug sat before her on the coffee table, and gods but it was covered in cheese and crackers. Apparently today was a carbo load kind of day.

As I drew nearer, I heard one of the women on the talk show say, "And, ladies, about John Lennon's killer... Mark Da-"

I had about enough of that shit, and expressed it by turning the television the fuck off. In my mind, names had power, and the man that murdered John Lennon didn't need any more power than he'd already been granted. That asshole was not to be trifled with.

Coralie's head whipped to me. "What the hell, Colleen?" she snapped bitterly. "I was watching that! You don't own this house, you can't just do whatever you want."

I sighed, unsurprised that my sister was upset. "Names have power. I won't let you give him even more of it," I explained with artificial calm. All the while, the intensely unsettled feeling jolted up and down my spine, making me shudder and long for a corner to hide in.

"You and your superstitious mumbo jumbo Colleen." Coralie rolled her eyes and shook her head like I was being unreasonable, but I couldn't help it. She had her visions and I had my superstitious mumbo jumbo. Then, changing tracks as she was wont to do, she asked, "Do you want to watch 'A Hard Day's Night' with me?"

It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time, especially not on this day. "Sure," I accepted, nestling in my armchair as she fiddled with the DVR to pull the movie up and start it.

Four and a half hours later, after watching not only A Hard Day's Night but also Help! and Magical Mystery Tour, it was just past 7:30 and her royal highness Coralie decided she needed something to eat.

"I'm going to make myself some soup. Do you want anything?" she questioned.

I hummed from inside my hoodie. "No, just please, for the love of god, don't touch my microwave," I begged, fairly certain she was going to ignore every word I said.

"Yeah, I won't," she promised, sugar sweet, and I knew she was bullshitting me.

I knew I wouldn't get away with watching her, but I kept a careful ear out as she puttered around in the kitchen, opening the soup can and stirring it in some kind of container.

"I can't believe Avril is still out with that guy," Coralie suddenly snapped, distracting me from my auditory surveillance. "She's been gone all day, today of all days. That's just ridiculous!"

I began to formulate a diplomatic response that tactfully explained that not everybody grieved the same way and that the world didn't actually revolve around Coralie just because she mourned John the hardest, but I lost my train of thought as I suddenly heard the familiar beeping of a microwave that had been started. I flew up from my seat and tore into the kitchen, absolutely stark raving mad at my twin. She wasn't supposed to touch the microwave, and she knew it! I could have put up a sign to remind her, since she was fairly oblivious on occasion, but she had used that to reduce number 13 to a pile of rubble and I wasn't going to risk it again.

"MY MICROWAVE!" I bellowed as I tore around the corner. I had only a second to see the look of dawning horror on my sister's face and yank her away from the smoking microwave by the sleeve of her sweatshirt before number 35 exploded in our faces with a loud bang and billowing clouds of ominous gray, black, and deep purple smoke. I felt the momentum of the explosion grab me and send me flying back what felt like an inordinately long distance for a microwave explosion (and believe you me, I would know). Then, there was a rough collision, and it was a long time before I was aware of anything further.

Pain. Crippling waves of pain, emanating from the back of my head.

I winced and went to rub at the back of my head, before I thought better of it and played dead for a long moment. My memory could've been a bit spotty, but all I remembered was another fucking microwave explosion before blacking out and I didn't want to alert any baddies in the area that I was back in the game so soon after coming around. Instead, I expanded my awareness of the air and earth around me in an attempt to discover where I was. Almost immediately, I recognized my sister next to me and the climate as Liverpool's, but that didn't make any sense. We'd been thrown away from the road by the explosion, and it was a good five degrees Fahrenheit colder than it had been before the explosion. Plus there was no reason for a crowd to exist anywhere near our flat, but I could hear one plain as day.

There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, though, so I figured that we weren't being held captive or any cheerful thing like that.

Then my sister's foot introduced itself to my ribcage, and none too gently at that. "Colleen, wake up," she ordered.

I cracked my eyes open and was greeted by dim moon and starlight mostly blocked by Coralie's massive blonde head. " 'm up," I muttered woozily, first sitting and waiting for the resulting dizziness to pass before using a handily located wall to stand the rest of the way up and look around, with my eyes this time.

We seemed to be standing off to the side of some sort of alleyway. The ground was none too clean, leaving me to only imagine the state of my wildly curly hair, and the horrible smell wafting from a few nearby dumpsters would've turned my stomach if I wasn't used to the stench of homunculi and other earthmade monsters. Fortunately, I couldn't see any windows nearby, so we hadn't been discovered, but that still didn't make any sense as there were no alleys near our flat. Some kind of main road intersected with the cobbled concrete of the alley about 300 feet on either side of us, and I could dimly tell that the roads were lit with street lamps.

"Where are we?" Coralie asked, as if I had any useful information.

I shook my head. There was no doubt in my mind that we hadn't left the city, even if our surroundings had changed. "Liverpool," I replied bluntly.

"That can't be," she denied in a tone that belied the seriousness of our situation. "I've never been here and I've been everywhere there is to be in Liverpool. Something isn't right here.

"Tell me about it," I retorted. "It's too cold- the temperature was supposed to go up overnight- and we're nowhere familiar, but we're in Liverpool. No two ways about it." I crossed my arms in a way that probably looked defensive but was actually intended to conserve body heat and backed further out of the line of sight of the roadways, just in case.

Coralie opened her mouth and started off, "Well, Colleen-"

Four men suddenly bolted down the alley, sprinting straight at my sister and I. She cut off abruptly as one of them cried, in a voice that was hauntingly familiar, "Quick, hide!"

Before we had time to obey- or not- one of them grabbed each of us by the arm and dragged us behind the dumpsters. I snuck halfway between the dumpster and the wall, being the only person short enough to pull it off, and wafted the scent of the garbage away from us on instinct.

There was a cacophony of squeals and then they descended upon us. What had to be hundreds of young women, most of them no older than I, thundered into the alley and right past the dumpster, spilling out on the other side and heading off in every which way. They rushed past so quickly you'd think they were competing for Olympic gold.

Coralie turned to me, giving a tiny quirk of her eyebrow as she realized I was wedged behind the dumpster, and thought, "What the fuck?"

At the same time, I sent, "What the actual hell?" right back at her.

One of the the dubious advantages of supernatural twinhood was a telepathic connection between my mind and my sister's. Over time it had proven to generally be more trouble than it was worth and we tended to shield from each other, but it was useful now.

I followed her gaze, staring at the four men who interrupted the beginning of a truly colossal argument. Because it was so dark I couldn't quite see their faces clearly, but then the shortest one moved and the shadows cleared from his face. I didn't know how it was possible, but he was unmistakably Ringo Starr of the Beatles, in full possession of his youth. I knew I had to be broadcasting some kind of wordless shock to Coralie, but I didn't give a particular fuck about that. If the short man with the nose was Ringo, the tall thin one had to be George Harrison and the one with the round pouty face would have to be Paul McCartney. That left the sarcastic man leaning next to my sister, the one who opened his big fat mouth to say, "Hello ladies, how's your evening been? I risked me life tonight."

He had to be John Lennon.

I made very direct eye contact with my sister. "Wait," we both blurted in perfect twinly unison. "What."

There was a faint buzz, then John's eyes lit up with interest. "Love," he said, and I automatically assumed he wasn't talking to me. Then, again, he insisted, "Love. Love!"

"What?" my sister bellowed, and I cringed, along with the other three onlookers.

He smirked and gestured at my sister's chest. "Your tits are lighting up."

If I wasn't pinned behind the dumpster, I would've facepalmed. As it was, I let my head fall back against the brick wall behind me and wished to be a million miles away as my eyes lingered on the length of the Beatles' hair and the cut and color of their suits, hoping to figure out what time period we'd appeared in.

Without shame, Coralie reached down her shirt and plucked her phone out of her cleavage. "Okay, wait, what the fuck! Colleen! I have bars in...in..." she trailed off and shot me a perplexed look. "Help me out here."

"Let's go with 1965," I offered immediately, basing my guess on the assessment I'd made of their wardrobe and hairstyles, along with the rabid mob of fangirls that sprinted past us.

"I HAVE BARS IN 1965?" she hollered.

My sister wasn't exactly known for her meek, mild personality or tiny voice, okay?

After she said nothing for a moment, I prompted, "Well, who is it?"

Coralie's eyes scanned back and forth as she read, and without realizing it I shifted out from behind the dumpster to protect my sister's phone as best I could from the Beatles's prying eyes. It wouldn't do to have them get too close a look at technology from fifty years in the future. Just as I finished moving, she caught my glance and told me, "We have a problem..."

Again, the trickle of apprehension and anxiety ran down my spine at those words. Somehow I just knew that whatever was in that text message would blow my unease wide open.

Suddenly, her hands flew up to her face and she started to press her forehead above her left eye. "But first, I'm going to have a migraine... Colleen, I need somewhere safe."

By migraine, she meant vision, and I- to put it bluntly- freaked the fuck out.

"Shit, that's just, shit, I have nowhere to go and you can't be here when this happens!" I exclaimed, not believing our absolutely phenomenal luck. An exploding microwave, what seemed to be time travel, the Beatles, bad news, and a migraine... all in one day? Fuck our lives. At this point, I was stepping right from rational thought straight into a fully fledged panic attack. I couldn't handle all this by myself. There was a reason why Coralie was in charge of all things supernatural, and it was because I freaked the fuck out, just like this.

"No fucking shit, Sherlock!" she slurred, probably intending to come across sharp but instead sounding something akin to drunk. "I can't hold out any longer..." Coralie trailed off and crumpled, but John caught her, princess style, before she hit the ground.

Somewhere in the distance there was a familiar, menacing cackle, but I had bigger fish to fry. "Is she having a seizure?" Ringo demanded.

"No, it's- it's something else, I can't explain but we have to go now," I insisted.

"I have a flat a couple of blocks away," John volunteered, adjusting his hold on my unconscious sister. "We can go there."

"Hurry up then!" I cried, and without prompting he began sprinting hell bent for leather down the alley. I took off after him, holding my own against his longer legs, and I heard Ringo, Paul, and George following behind. However, what had to be about halfway to his place, we were suddenly confronted with the shadowy owner of the menacing cackle, and that was when the shit really started to hit the fan.


End file.
